She's Just Not That Into You
by HollyRose31523
Summary: She is just an ordinary extra in the episode "The Reichenbach Fall" of the BBC series "Sherlock", but that doesn't necessarily mean that she is into Sherlock himself - or the actor.
1. Court In The Act

Chapter 1  
**Court In The Act**

"A 'consulting criminal'," Miss Sorrel, the prosecuting barrister, establishes.  
Sherlock Holmes, who has been called to give his evidence, is standing in the witness box of Old Bailey, Court Ten. James Moriarty is in the dock opposite him, nonchalantly chewing on his gum. John Watson is sitting in the public gallery upstairs.  
"Yes," Sherlock Holmes confirms.  
"Your words," the prosecuting barrister maintains. "Can you expand on that answer?"  
"James Moriarty is for hire," Sherlock Holmes explains.  
"A tradesman?"  
"Yes."  
"But not the sort who would fix your heating," the prosecuting barrister assumes.  
"No, the sort who would plant a bomb or stage an assassination," Sherlock Holmes answers. "But I'm sure he would make a pretty decent job of your boiler."  
There is muffled laughter from some people in the court and the prosecuting barrister tries to hide her smile.  
"Would you describe him as …"  
"Leading," Sherlock Holmes interrupts.  
"What?"  
"Can't do that," Sherlock Holmes establishes. "You are leading the witness."  
He looks towards the defending barrister.  
"He will object and the judge will uphold."  
The judge looks exasperated. Clearly this isn't the first time Sherlock Holmes has done this during his evidence.  
"Mr Holmes."  
"Ask me how," Sherlock Holmes suggests. "How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?"  
"Mr Holmes," the judge admonishes. "We are fine without your help."  
Kitty Riley comes into the public gallery. John Watson looks round at her as she finds a seat.  
"How would you describe this man?" the prosecuting barrister asks. "His character?"  
"First mistake."  
Sherlock Holmes raises his eyes and locks his gaze onto Jim Moriarty.  
"James Moriarty isn't a man at all," he explains. "He is a spider – a spider at the centre of a web – a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances."  
James Moriarty almost imperceptibly nods his head in approval of the description. The prosecuting barrister clears her throat awkwardly.  
"And how long …" she begins, buts Sherlock Holmes closes his eyes in exasperation.  
"No, no, don't … don't do that," he interrupts. "That's really not a good question."  
"Mr Holmes," the judge says, angrily.  
"How long have I known him?" Sherlock Holmes asks. "Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun. He tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something."  
The last sentence sound a little sarcastically and James Moriarty raises his eyebrows in an "ooh" expression.  
"Miss Sorrel," the judge intervenes. "Are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?"  
"Two minutes would have made me an expert," Sherlock Holmes maintains. "Five was ample."  
"Mr Holmes, that is a matter for the jury," the judge decides.  
"Oh, really?  
Sherlock Holmes eyes turn towards the jury box and John Watson raises his hand to his head in an all-too-recognisable "Oh, shit, NO!" gesture. Sherlock Holmes turns the full force of his gaze onto the twelve people sitting in the jury box and has deduced all of them within a couple of seconds.  
"One librarian, two teachers, two high-pressured jobs, probably the City."  
Then he focuses on the woman at the far left of the front row. She has a notebook resting on the ledge in front of her and is writing in shorthand.  
"The foreman is a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand."  
"Mr Holmes!" the judge roars, but Sherlock Holmes doesn't care.  
He is busy scanning rings on the jury members' fingers.  
"Seven are married and two are having an affair – with each other, it would seem," he deducts. "Oh, and they have just had tea and biscuits."  
Sherlock Holmes turns to the judge.  
"Would you like to know who ate the wafer?"  
"Mr Holmes," the judge says, furiously. "You have been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess."  
Sherlock Holmes takes a breath but can't help smiling a little at the acknowledgement of his 'intellectual prowess'. John Watson stares at him sternly.  
"Keep your answers brief and to the point," the judge demands. "Anything else will be treated as contempt. Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?"  
Sherlock Holmes pauses as he gives the question some thought, then opens his mouth …


	2. On A Trial Basis

Chapter 2  
**On A Trial Basis**

"… and cut!" Toby Haynes, the director, calls. "Thank you, everyone! You may go to lunch now, then we can shoot the scene again."  
I heave a sigh. He can't be serious! Not another take of this scene! This last one was perfect – at least in my extra-opinion.  
Rubbing my eyes I yawn and lean back in my seat. The other jury members, who have been sitting around me, rise and slowly walk off, but I don't join them. I am tired of their gushing about Benedict Cumberbatch and how brilliant he is. But I am not that into him, to be honest.  
From the corner of my eyes I watch a couple of girls approaching Benedict, ogling at him as if he was a god from ancient Rome and giggling sheepishly when he makes a remark that isn't even funny. The girls don't seem to mind, though, instead they are posing for a couple of pictures with him.  
Rolling my eyes I shake my head. Silly cows they are – thinking they are special, because they chatted with Benedict Cumberbatch for a couple of minutes. As if he cared much about them! To him they are just ordinary fans, meaningless extras in a TV series that he happens to be the star of.  
"What were you rolling your eyes at?"  
I flinch when I suddenly hear the familiar voice of Benedict Cumberbatch right next to me and turn around to face him. He certainly looks taller in the film than in real life.  
"Oh, just all that lot," I answer, nodding at the girls, who are now leaving the set. "All fawning all over you …"  
I scoff.  
"That must get a bit exhausting, right?"  
"Yeah," Benedict confirms, shrugging. "It can be pretty exhausting."  
"Especially because they are just doing it because all of a sudden you are famous," I add.  
Benedict frowns.  
"Except they are not doing it just because I'm famous, though."  
"Sure they do," I insist.  
"No," Benedict maintains. "It's my looks as well."  
"Hmm…" I muse.  
"What's that supposed to mean, 'Hmmm'?"  
"Oh, nothing, nothing," I lie, quickly.  
I cannot tell him that he isn't as good looking as he thinks he is, can I?  
"I just don't think that they would be acting like that if you weren't a film star," I add for consideration.  
"Actually, they pretty much would," Benedict establishes. "I have always had attention."  
"Even before 'Sherlock'?" I ask, doubtfully. "I, for example, didn't even know your name a couple of years ago. You were an absolute nobody before 'Sherlock'."  
"No, I wasn't!" Benedict contradicts. "I did films before."  
"Really?"  
I frown.  
"What films?"  
"Loads."  
"I never noticed your name, sorry."  
"And how is that my fault?" Benedict demands.  
I sigh.  
"Look, all I'm saying is, if you were, let's say, the prop boy, you would just get ignored."  
"What?"  
Benedict throws out a laugh.  
"With this face?" he asks, gesturing at his head. "I wouldn't get ignored."  
"I'm just saying …"  
"I will tell you, who does get ignored," Benedict cuts in. "James McAvoy. On the set of 'Atonement' the girls just walked straight past him, going 'Get out our bloody way, whoever you are, we want to get to Benedict.' They were round me like bees round a honeypot."  
I blink confused.  
"They ignore James McAvoy?"  
"Yeah," Benedict confirms. "They were going, 'Oh, Benedict, who's that freak over there that we didn't notice?' I was going, 'It's James McAvoy', you know, and they were going, 'Who cares? You were Stephen Hawking!'."  
I raise an astonished eyebrow.  
"Were you?"  
"Yeah, sure, few years ago, yeah."  
Benedict nods.  
"And James always was like, 'Oooh, I'm so cool, I'm in love with a pig-snouted girl!," Benedict mimics. "And, 'Oooh, look at me, I've got goat legs with glossy brown hair!'."  
He rolls his eyes.  
"Tom Lefroy?" Benedict huffs, scrunching up his face into a grimace. "A tomfool, he is."  
"Okay," I reply, slowly.  
"Anyway …"  
Benedict smiles at me again.  
"Got to go now."  
"Yeah," I answer, evasively. "Bye!"  
"Catch you later!"  
Benedict click-winks at me Sherlock-style, then he walks away.  
"Yeah, maybe," I mumble as I look after him, grateful that I finally left alone.  
Did I mention that I am not that into him?


	3. Cross Examination

Chapter 3  
**Cross Examination**

"Well, hello there!"  
Startled, I look up and force a smile when I recognize Katherine Parkinson – an old … can I call her … friend?  
"Hi, Kathy," I greet her.  
"Long time no see," Kathy says as she sits down beside me. "What are you doing here?"  
"Well, I'm …"  
"You are not still an extra, are you?" Kathy asks, palming her face. "Oh, God, that must do your head in!"  
"I …"  
"You know I'm an actress now?" Kathy continues. "I portray Kitty Riley in this episode."  
"Yeah, I saw you in the public gallery before," I reply. "I was one of the jury members."  
"Right … and how long have you been an extra?"  
"Supporting artist," I improve.  
"How long have you been doing that now?"  
"About …"  
"I only did it 18 months and then I was plucked out of the cesspool," Kathy interrupts. "No disrespect."  
I shake my head.  
"None taken."  
Kathy leans in to me.  
"Now, guess what," she whispers.  
"What?"  
"I have got a scene with Benedict Cumberbatch later," Kathy informs me.  
"Okay," I reply, unimpressed.  
Kathy beams.  
"God, he is gorgeous," she gushes. "Don't you think?"  
I shrug, evenly.  
"Well, I just did a scene with him …"  
"Yeah, but … I mean, I have got an actual scene with dialogue," Kathy explains. "Not just a fuzzy blob in the background. No disrespect."  
I smile, humourlessly.  
"None taken, again."  
"Oh, hang on!" she says, when her phone starts ringing with an annoying melody, and pulls it out. "Oh, it's Kenny Bowers. I have just got to take this."  
"Okay."  
"Hello, darling," Kathy flirts into her phone and throws a couple of artificial laughs. "Listen, listen ... No, Ken, can I just call you back? Sorry, I'm just with a friend."  
"It's all right," I hurry to say. "I'm all right."  
"Yes, she is female," Kathy answers into her phone, then she turns to me. "Oh, he says can I take a picture of you? Hold on a sec, hang on."  
Before I can object she has taken my picture with her camera phone.  
"I will text it to you," she tells the man on the phone. "You are a dirty old man. Bye."  
She hangs up and lowers her phone.  
"Actually, he is not old," she informs me. "He is 28 and he has got his own yacht."  
"Well done …"  
"He is quite a catch, really," Kathy adds, but embarrassment is not too long in coming. "So where are you living at the moment? Have you got your own place?"  
"Yes, I have got my own place," I confirm.  
"'Cause you were renting before," Kathy continues. "That grotty little council place behind Tesco Express, if I remember correctly."  
"I'm still there," I reply, dryly.  
"You are well, though?" Kathy asks, concerned.  
"Surprisingly, yes."  
"Yeah, well, that's the main thing, isn't it?" Kathy responds. "Even if you have got nothing else, at least you have got your health, eh? At the moment …"  
"Yeah."  
"Talking of bad luck," Kathy goes on. "Did you hear about Joanna? Charles has left her for a younger model. She is devastated, honestly, all alone, crying herself to sleep every night in that big house. She has got her own house, at least, which is something."  
"Good for her."  
Again, Kathy's mobile is ringing.  
"Oh, that will be Kenny again," Kathy supposes and glances at the display. "No. It's Susan."  
She makes a dismissive gesture.  
"Ah, never mind."  
"You might as well take it," I tell her. "That's alright with me …"  
Kathy contemplates, then she picks up and for about five minutes I have to listen to her jabbing, until she finally comes to an end.  
"Okay," she says, chuckling. "No, okay, bye. Bye."  
With a sigh, she presses a button on her phone and looks at me.  
"Sorry about that," she apologizes. "Just a call to do a small part in a film, but I just had to let them down. I'm too busy, you know …"  
I nod, understandingly.  
"I wonder if they would want you," Kathy muses.  
"I wouldn't have thought so," I reply.  
"Oh, hang on," Kathy says, quickly. "Why don't I give them a call?"  
"No," I refuse, but Kathy doesn't want to hear of it.  
"Oh, come, come, let me try to help my bloody mates," she says, mildly, as she dials a number. "God knows, you need the help."  
"But I'm not even a proper actress," I add for consideration.  
"Yeah, hang on," Kathy tells me. "Hi, Susan, listen, about that job … I have got a friend who is available and I was wondering … does she have to be good looking?"  
I frown.  
"Oh, does she?" Kathy says with a sigh. "Oh … Oh, I don't know, mid 40s, perhaps."  
I take a deep breath.  
"I'm 38," I mumble, but Kathy is discussing another thing already.  
"I would say … mousy," Kathy supposes, examining my hair.  
"Blonde," I improve.  
"But she is a lovely girl," Kathy insists. "Great personality and absolutely desperate for anything."  
She bites her lips.  
"No?" she asks. "All right … well, I tried … Okay, cheers."  
She hangs up and looks at me, apologetically.  
"Sorry about that," she says. "It's not your lucky day, I guess."  
"Apparently."  
"And unfortunately I have got to leave you now," Kathy says in a regretful tone, standing. "I have got to get prepared for my big scene with Benedict."  
"Yeah, of course you do."  
Kathy smiles at me, broadly, and so do I as I watch her walk away.  
Alone again – finally, some good news …


	4. The Jury Is Still Out

Chapter 4  
**The Jury Is Still Out**

"Hi."  
I look up from my magazine when I perceive the slightly familiar voice next to me.  
"Hello again," I greet Benedict, who is taking the seat beside me – without asking, of course.  
"What are you reading?" he wants to know.  
"Nothing important," I answer, dismissively. "Just 'Hello'!"  
"Oh, yeah …"  
Benedict smiles and shows me his journal.  
"'Heat'."  
I nod and turn back to my own magazine, when …  
"Oh, no!" Benedict suddenly exclaims. "I don't believe it …"  
"What is it?"  
"Just Top 5 Sexiest Film Stars," Benedict explains.  
"Are you in it?" I ask, uninterested.  
"Number one," Benedict answers, proudly. "Stupid."  
"Yep."  
"What do they mean, these lists, anyway?"  
"Nothing, really."  
"Don't slag them off!" Benedict demands. "It's their opinion. Just …"  
He pauses.  
"Oh, no," he then groans. "Look at this woman magazine."  
He holds up his journal and I glance at the top article, frowning.  
"'I'm having an affair with my brother-in-law's ghost'?" I read.  
"No, that!" Benedict says, impatiently. "Women's Top Ten Fantasy Snogs. Number one again."  
"What's that thing about the ghost?" I want to know.  
"'My husband's brother's ghost visits me at night and I think I'm falling in love with him'," Benedict reads out loud.  
My eyes widen.  
"Do they have sex?" I gasp.  
"Well, it doesn't say," Benedict answers. "But it doesn't matter, does it? Look, we were looking at the Number One Fantasy Snogs For Women. Number one, Benedict Cumberbatch. Oh, better not show this to James McAvoy. He is only number six."  
"Really?" I reply. "He would be my number one."  
"Well, you would be wrong, wouldn't you?" Benedict says, chuckling. "I am number one! There is the proof!"  
He points at his journal.  
"It was the same on the set of 'Atonement'," he continues. "Me and Keira Knightley do that sunbathing scene at the lake with Patrick Kennedy, I do a brilliant take, everyone claps, and Joe Wright, the director, goes, 'That was amazing, Ben!', but Keira goes, "Oh, can we perhaps make it a tad more romantic, like I could kiss Ben or something, when he gives me the cigarette?' … Have you seen the film?"  
"No."  
"Anyway," Benedict continues, regardless. "I know what she is up to, so I tease her, and I go, 'If you want to kiss somebody, why don't you kiss James McAvoy?'. She goes, 'Don't make me sick! I'm going to vomit if I only think about that library scene!'"  
"Why do you keep talking about James McAvoy?" I demand.  
"I don't keep talking about him," Benedict objects. "I never talk about him, he is boring. He is a prat."  
"Is he?"  
"Hell, yeah!" Benedict snorts. "Where I'm from, he wouldn't last five minutes. He would get a smack in his ugly face straightaway."  
"And where are you from?" I ask, ignoring the 'ugly face'.  
"Hammersmith, London."  
"Okay …"  
I nod.  
"But in the end, they are all subjective, those lists, I mean, aren't they?"  
"Well, no," Benedict contradicts. "Obviously, I am objectively really good-looking."  
"But looks are not objective, are they?" I retort. "Beauty always lies in the eye of the beholder."  
"What do your eyes behold when they look at me, then?" Benedict asks, looking at me expectantly.  
"Honestly?"  
"Yeah!"  
"Well, nothing so beautiful, actually," I admit.  
Benedict blinks.  
"You what?"  
"I'm sorry," I apologize. "But, personally, I think you are a wee bit … you know …"  
I stop in mid-sentence, afraid to give him the truth right between the eyes, and make an evasive gesture instead.  
"You are winding me up, now, aren't you?" Benedict asks, amused.  
"No."  
Benedict takes a deep breath and nods.  
"I tell you what," he then begins. "Come out for a drink later."  
"With you?"  
"No, with Martin and Andrew," Benedict says, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, of course with me."  
I shake my head.  
"I can't," I refuse. "Sorry."  
"Why not?"  
"I'm meeting a friend."  
"Tell him something came up!" Benedict suggests. "He will understand."  
"I doubt it," I suppose. "Not for drinks, at least."  
"Let's have dinner, then," Benedict insists. "You and me, at the King's Arms. My treat."  
"Why would I want to have dinner with you?"  
"To get to know me."  
"I already do."  
"No, I mean, the normal me," Benedict explains. "Just take a better look at me and, you know, see the attractiveness."  
I hesitate.  
"But I don't think you are," I confess quietly, yet honestly. "Attractive, I mean."  
Benedict stares at me, flabbergast, and for a moment I think he is going to faint or something. But he doesn't. Instead he slowly gets up and looks down at me, disappointment and disbelief in his eyes.  
"Liar!" he says, and despite my rebuff his voice doesn't sound angry or narked.  
I almost feel sorry for him as he turns on his heel and walks away without another word. But what can I do? I am just not that into him.


	5. Verdict By A Whisker

Chapter 5  
**Verdict By A Whisker**

"Good news!"  
Kathy, who has appeared behind me out of nowhere, slaps me hard on my back.  
I nearly stumble and quickly I grab the banister of the jury stand.  
"More good news," I mumble, rolling my eyes. "Excellent."  
"Right!"  
Kathy smiles broadly.  
"Eddie Monaghan, electrician," she explains. "He split up with his wife a while ago and he is back on the market. Lovely guy, just your type."  
She points at two men, who are setting up the lights, the younger man smiles at me and gives me a wink and for a moment I feel flattered.  
"Really?" I ask, Kathy and she nods, eagerly.  
"Sweet guy," she says. "He is a really lovely guy. Interested?"  
"Yeah."  
"Great!" Kathy exclaims. "Hey, Eddie?  
"Yo!"  
The older man, who had his back turned to me, looks over his shoulder. He is bearded, chubby and in his fifties and I scrunch up my face. I could put up with his age and his overweight, too, but the beard is an absolute no-go.  
"This is her," Kathy tells him, pointing at me.  
Eddie Monaghan shakes his head in disgust and I exhale deeply.  
"No?" Kathy asks.  
Eddie only rolls his eyes and makes a dismissive gesture.  
Kathy sighs.  
"Oh, never mind."  
"Not bothered," I lie.  
"I just don't know where you are going wrong," Kathy muses.  
"Yeah," I reply. "Beats me …"  
I stop, when suddenly someone steps up to us and Kathy gasps, when she realized that it is Benedict again. But to my surprise, and even more so to hers, he totally ignores her and jabs an accusing finger at me instead.  
"Right," he says, determined. "Kiss me."  
"What?"  
"You heard me!"  
"But I …"  
"One kiss," Benedict demands. "Come on."  
"No!" I reply.  
Kathy next to me blinks in astonishment.  
"One kiss," Benedict insists. "Just let me show you how I do it."  
Kathy's eyes widen.  
"No tongues, if you don't want," Benedict adds.  
Kathy lets out a squeal.  
"Alright," I give in, shrugging. "If it's going to shut you up …"  
Benedict smiles, then he grabs my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, looking at me intensely, so I can spot the tiny freckle in his right eye, before he leans in and presses his lips against mine.  
I imagine it is supposed to be meant passionately romantic, but it isn't. It is just a pair of lips pressing against mine. No butterflies, no nothing – just a bad aftertaste in my mouth.  
Benedict sighs as he finally breaks the kiss, releasing my shoulders from his firm grip.  
"Well?"  
He looks at me expectantly.  
I bite my lips to regain feeling in them and shake my head.  
"Not really my bag of crisps," I admit.  
Benedict stares at me and something flickers in his eyes. Is it real hurt or just wounded vanity? I cannot tell, because, now he turns around abruptly, holding his head up, and strides away.  
Again, I feel a bit sorry for him. A bit only.  
"Was that …?" Kathy whispers.  
"Yep."  
"Benedict Cumberbatch …"  
"Yep," I reply. "Sorry about that."  
"He just …"  
"Yep."  
"… kissed you."  
I nod.  
"He couldn't be stopped, obviously," I remark, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. "Again, sorry about that."  
And while I wonder, whether Benedict has brushed his teeth today, Kathy stares after him, longingly, and sighs.  
Apparently, she is more into him than I am.


	6. Disclaimer and Author's Note

Disclaimer:

Firstly, I do not own Sherlock or any of the mentioned films or series and their characters.

Seceondly, this is entirely a work of fiction. It is a fictional story about fictional representations of real people. It was inspired by the Orlando Bloom Episode from the BBC series "Extras". None of the events are true (to my knowledge). No profit is made from this work. It is for entertainment only.

Do I have to point out that I don't believe for a second that any of the characters would ever behave like they do in my story? I hope not!

And last but not least, a huge thanks to Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan for the transcripts of all the Sherlock episodes. I only used a small part of it for my first chapter and it was very helpful.


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